| Song | Patterns |
| Artist | Simon |
| Album | The Columbia Studio Recordings (1964-1970) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Lyrics:Paul Simon Music:Paul Simon | |
| The night sets softly | |
| With the hush of falling leaves, | |
| Casting shivering shadows | |
| On the houses through the trees, | |
| And the light from a street lamp | |
| Paints a pattern on my wall, | |
| Like the pieces of a puzzle | |
| Or a child's uneven scrawl. | |
| Up a narrow flight of stairs | |
| In a narrow little room, | |
| As I lie upon my bed | |
| In the early evening gloom. | |
| Impaled on my wall | |
| My eyes can dimly see | |
| The pattern of my life | |
| And the puzzle that is me. | |
| From the moment of my birth | |
| To the instant of my death, | |
| There are patterns I must follow | |
| Just as I must breathe each breath. | |
| Like a rat in a maze | |
| The path before me lies, | |
| And the pattern never alters | |
| Until the rat dies. | |
| And the pattern still remains | |
| On the wall where darkness fell, | |
| And it's fitting that it should, | |
| For in darkness I must dwell. | |
| Like the color of my skin, | |
| Or the day that I grow old, | |
| My life is made of patterns | |
| That can scarcely be controlled. |
| Lyrics: Paul Simon Music: Paul Simon | |
| The night sets softly | |
| With the hush of falling leaves, | |
| Casting shivering shadows | |
| On the houses through the trees, | |
| And the light from a street lamp | |
| Paints a pattern on my wall, | |
| Like the pieces of a puzzle | |
| Or a child' s uneven scrawl. | |
| Up a narrow flight of stairs | |
| In a narrow little room, | |
| As I lie upon my bed | |
| In the early evening gloom. | |
| Impaled on my wall | |
| My eyes can dimly see | |
| The pattern of my life | |
| And the puzzle that is me. | |
| From the moment of my birth | |
| To the instant of my death, | |
| There are patterns I must follow | |
| Just as I must breathe each breath. | |
| Like a rat in a maze | |
| The path before me lies, | |
| And the pattern never alters | |
| Until the rat dies. | |
| And the pattern still remains | |
| On the wall where darkness fell, | |
| And it' s fitting that it should, | |
| For in darkness I must dwell. | |
| Like the color of my skin, | |
| Or the day that I grow old, | |
| My life is made of patterns | |
| That can scarcely be controlled. |
| Lyrics: Paul Simon Music: Paul Simon | |
| The night sets softly | |
| With the hush of falling leaves, | |
| Casting shivering shadows | |
| On the houses through the trees, | |
| And the light from a street lamp | |
| Paints a pattern on my wall, | |
| Like the pieces of a puzzle | |
| Or a child' s uneven scrawl. | |
| Up a narrow flight of stairs | |
| In a narrow little room, | |
| As I lie upon my bed | |
| In the early evening gloom. | |
| Impaled on my wall | |
| My eyes can dimly see | |
| The pattern of my life | |
| And the puzzle that is me. | |
| From the moment of my birth | |
| To the instant of my death, | |
| There are patterns I must follow | |
| Just as I must breathe each breath. | |
| Like a rat in a maze | |
| The path before me lies, | |
| And the pattern never alters | |
| Until the rat dies. | |
| And the pattern still remains | |
| On the wall where darkness fell, | |
| And it' s fitting that it should, | |
| For in darkness I must dwell. | |
| Like the color of my skin, | |
| Or the day that I grow old, | |
| My life is made of patterns | |
| That can scarcely be controlled. |